


The Interrogators

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured spy, Snape, is brought to Voldemort's most effective interrogators, who employ a number of methods in getting the truth</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interrogators

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

Snape hated waiting. He could be patient when the situation called for it, such as handling a delicate potion or sending a report back to Dumbledore, but the tension that waiting created never got easier to deal with. Now was no different. Evans Rosier, once a school friend, had walked him into a dimly lit room - more a cave, he thought scornfully - and promptly chained him to the wall in one corner, far away from the fireplace, the warm rugs and the indistinct furniture.

Snape had been there ever since, a time he calculated to be roughly six or seven hours. The rough rocky wall was cold against his back, and his legs were beginning to ache from standing so long without any movement. He had saved himself the effort of trying to free himself; the manacles were no doubt magically reinforced, and, he mused, where would he go if he could escape? This was but one subterranean level in Voldemort's stronghold - there would be Death Eaters, his former comrades, crawling everywhere.

It was mildly disconcerting, though, that Snape had never seen this particular area before. As a Potions Master, his skills were in demand amongst all the Death Eaters, whether they wanted simple Dreamless Sleep potion or something more sinister, such as Fuego de Infierno. It meant he was summoned all over the country, Voldemort's Headquarters notwithstanding, but never had the residents of this hellhole sent for him. With little else to do with his time currently, Snape pondered the reasons for this.

Perhaps the people in question had no need for potions, though this didn't sit quite right with Snape; everyone had a need for a potion at some point or another, even if it was just to kill an annoying headache. It was possible, then, that the residents were perfectly capable of brewing their own potions. Some Death Eaters were skilled at activities besides obeying Voldemort; it was finding the time that caused most to go to Snape. The only other viable reason was that Voldemort wanted these particular Death Eaters kept secret - if they had an advantage over the other side, it was understandable that the Dark Lord would try to keep them away from any of the spies milling in his ranks.

Solving this problem was not nearly as satisfying as it should have been, as it still left Snape with far too little to do. The hours dragged on, blurring indistinguishably into one mass of boredom, all the more aggravating for someone with as sharp an intellect as Snape. He couldn't even drop off to sleep, forced to stand as he was, and his bones were starting to ache at the encroaching chill from the stone floor and the wall behind him. Shuffling uncomfortably, he let out a huff of annoyance. He almost wished that the residents of the cave would come back, so as to relieve the monotony.

His head snapped up when the oak door on the opposite side of the room opened with a loud creak. In walked a man, cloaked in black as they all were, and thus completely unrecognisable to Snape. Until, that is, the newcomer lowered his hood. Snape's eyes boggled.

"Lupin?" he exclaimed. The man in question looked up in shock, a smile coming to his face.

"Severus! What a lovely surprise!" he greeted pleasantly, hanging his cloak up. Snape was silently amazed. There he was, chained to the wall in an underground cavern, staring at a man supposed dead. When Black escaped from Azkaban not two months after his incarceration, Lupin had simply disappeared, and everyone assumed Voldemort's right-hand man had killed his old school friend.

But there he was, before Snape's very eyes, moving around the room with alarming familiarity. A terrible feeling of dread quenched the small spark of hope that had flared unbidden in Snape's chest.

"Lupin, what are you doing here?" he dared to ask. Lupin glanced up from the scroll he was reading by the light of the fire he had lit.

"I live here, of course," he said matter-of-factly, only a slight smirk on his lips. Snape closed his eyes in defeat, head thumping lightly against the wall.

"Of course," he muttered. His logical mind didn't need many clues to put a puzzle together, and he had certainly had more than enough already for him to figure out Lupin's mysterious appearance. "Where's Black, then?" he said. Lupin grinned wolfishly at Snape, admiration clearly evident in his amber eyes.

"I didn't think it would take you too long to work it all out," he said. Snape glared at him.

"I'm flattered," he spat, but Lupin only chuckled at his show of temper. There was silence afterwards, but for the spitting of the fire, as Lupin sorted through the scrolls on the coffee table between two well-worn sofas. Snape, appearing nonchalant in the corner, was inwardly brimming with questions, about Lupin, and Black, and any number of subjects relating to them, particularly the sudden increase in cases of lycanthropy recently. He bit his tongue to keep them from spilling forth; he would not give Lupin the satisfaction of answering.

Settled on one of the very comfy-looking sofas, Lupin glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and made a disapproving sound. Snape decided it was adequate enough entertainment to watch Lupin repeatedly look at the clock every five minutes, looking more annoyed each time. Finally he stood up, muttering under his breath, and stomped through a door leading into what, Snape presumed, was a bedroom or bathroom.

Without Lupin there, the room seemed larger and more threatening. Snape could feel himself tensing defensively again, and absently noted that he would be very achy in the morning. He was relieved when Lupin came back in, a bewitched food trolley trundling along after him through the door. His relief, however, swiftly evaporated when he saw that what was on the trolley was definitely not food. Lupin directed it to rest against the wall near Snape, where he could clearly see every single item gleaming in the dim light.

"You know why you're here," Lupin said pre-emptively, summoning a chair to sit on in front of Snape. He settled himself, looking for all the world like an annoyed parent. Except parents didn't generally wear tight black shirts like that, or tight leather trousers that left sinfully little to the imagination, or combat boots with the metal buckles shining brightly against the ensemble. He looked, Snape thought, like Black had on Hogsmeade weekends during school.

"I'm a spy," Snape said, when he had looked his fill. There was little point in denying it; no less than six junior Death Eaters had caught him red-handed. Lupin nodded and stood up again.

"Very good. It's always so tedious having to force the first confession out of people. Everyone knows why you're here," he said. He gave Snape a shrewd look. "I heard rumours that Dumbledore put a good word in for you at the Ministry, but I didn't think you were one to betray your first oath."

"And what about you?" Snape snapped in return; there were few things that infuriated him as much as people questioning his integrity. "What do you call swearing allegiance to the murderer of one of your closest friends?" Lupin smiled bitterly and nodded, as if he had heard the question too many times for it to bother him any more.

"But Severus, we didn't betray the Light. They betrayed us," he said softly, fingers brushing over the instruments spread out on the trolley thoughtfully.

"I don't see how you could have come to that illogical conclusion," Snape snorted derisively with a shake of his head. Lupin set down the plain knife he had been playing with. In a flash he was nose to nose with Snape, gold eyes boring into Snape's with such intensity he felt shivers flutter up his spine. A hand lifted, and Snape winced, preparing for a strike, only to feel the gentle touch of fingers on his cheek. His eyes opened wide in surprise, staring into Lupin's, watching the soft concentration on the shorter man's features.

"L-Lupin?" he whispered. A callused thumb over his lips silenced him, followed by a hot mouth crushing against his. He gasped in surprise, opening himself to an attack by Lupin's agile tongue. To Snape, he tasted of chocolate and cigarettes and whisky, intoxicating. Before he could stop himself, Snape was kissing back, trading lick for lick and bite for bite. Lupin's hands slid under his shirt, his nails scratching lightly at the skin beneath them. Snape moaned, whimpering when the manacles stopped him from doing the same. Instead he settled for pressing his growing erection against Lupin's leg, pleased to feel the gesture being returned. A small part of his mind, always objective in situations like this, was screaming at him that it was all part of Lupin's plan and that he should resist at all costs, but it had been far too long since he had been touched by a lover, and his body had needs completely separate to that of his mind.

Lupin growled and thrust harder against Snape's leg, tearing his mouth away in order to attach it to the pale expanse of neck revealed to him. Snape's nerves tingled in excitement; every over- sensitised inch of his flesh felt like it had a direct link straight to his groin, and he groaned when Lupin pressed in harder. He was so far gone, in fact, that he didn't hear the loud creak of the door or the clearing of a throat until Lupin was pulling that delicious mouth away from Snape's neck.

"God, Remus, do you have to whore yourself to every little turd that's sent here?" Black spat, glaring at Snape and Lupin in equal measure. Snape sneered, an automatic reaction more than anything, as he was more interested in the delicious pressure of Lupin's leg against his cock.

"Good evening, Sirius," Lupin said insolently, before leaning back in to continue suckling on Snape's neck. He yelped when Black wrenched him away from Snape by the hair, bodily hauling him towards the sofas.

"You're mine, not fucking Snivellus' over there," Black growled, forcing Lupin to meet his eyes. Lupin glared up through his fringe, and Snape swore he was actually pouting, before Black turned his considerable ire on Snape himself. "And as for you," he muttered. Snape quirked his eyebrow, the heat in his veins slowly cooling now that Lupin was no longer driving him purposefully to the brink. He could still taste him, though, and unconsciously he licked his lips to get more of the flavour. Black saw this, and was not amused.

"You can hardly blame me, Black," Snape reasoned, knowing full well that it would not make an ounce of difference, "I'm chained up, therefore I had no way of stopping your randy werewolf."

"And you were just fighting to get away, weren't you Snape?" Black sneered sarcastically. He headed directly for the trolley, summoning the chair so he could sit. Snape saw Lupin clamber to his feet out of the corner of his eye, rubbing at his scalp gingerly. Black muttered as he fingered the instruments deftly, testing a couple of the knives against his thumb. "Moony, have you been throwing the knives at the door again?" he asked, his tone now amused rather than angry. Smiling, Lupin walked over and wrapped his arms about Black's shoulders.

"No, I lured Malfoy's brat here while you were in Manchester," he said by way of explanation.

"Draco?" Snape gasped, thinking back to the boy's sudden fearful fascination with knives; he and Lucius had both assumed it was just a phase that the teen would pass through. Black snorted but didn't look up, busy as he was sharpening the blunt knives on a whetstone. Lupin glanced at Snape, annoyed with his interruption. His fingers, which had felt so tender against Snape's cheek, ran over the leather of Black's jerkin.

Snape turned his head away when Lupin began nibbling on Black's ear, tongue doing sinful things to the shell. Not long after, the ominous sound of the knives being sharpened was replaced by the wet smack of hungry mouths.

"Don't you want to watch, Severus?" Lupin's voice called, licentiously. Snape dared to glare at them both, flushing ever so slightly when he saw how Lupin rocked wantonly in Black's lap.

"And they call us perverted," Black muttered, in a perfectly even voice that made Snape want to punch him. Lupin pressed a kiss to the corner of Black's mouth.

"We accepted the hypocrisy of Dumbledore's sycophants a long time ago, Padfoot," Lupin sighed. Black shook his head in disgust.

"No trial, Moony. I was innocent, and they just threw me in Azkaban. And what about you? One night a month you're a Dark Creature, so they shut you out every other day too. And what did they all say when we moved in together? Merlin -" His rant was abruptly ended when Lupin kissed him again, as hard and angry as Black evidently felt.

"I know, Padfoot," Lupin said when he had torn his lips away. He pressed their foreheads together, and Snape looked away for an entirely different reason. They were his captors, but oddly enough, he felt like he was intruding. Such a stupid time for sentimentality to strike him, he thought angrily, and watched just to spite himself. "Can we play now?" Lupin whined, sending a sly glance in the direction of Snape. Black followed the look, nose wrinkling distastefully.

"Don't know why you would want to with that," he muttered. Lupin bit him mischievously on the nose before levering himself out of Black's lap. Black slapped his leather-clad arse, grinning wickedly at Lupin's indignant expression. "Don't be too eager," he instructed, settling more comfortably in the chair.

"Aren't you going to have a piece too?" Lupin asked as he brushed against Snape. Black shook his head, and Lupin shrugged.

"So Severus, our most elusive spy," he said; one finger trailed up Snape's flank. "I'm sure you've been present at enough interrogations to know how they work." And Snape had, unfortunately enough. Potions were very useful when trying to learn the truth. The easy way was to dose the prisoner with Veritaserum, but even that required delicate measurements and careful questions. Other potions, ones that could make a person feel like bugs were crawling up their gullet, would not necessarily force the truth from someone straightaway, but would wear them down eventually until they told all just to make the pain stop.

Snape didn't think Black and Lupin were ones to use Veritaserum to extract the truth. Ironic, a part of him thought.

"Sirius and I like to operate a little differently; we like to work with pain and pleasure. But I'm sure you're keen mind will no doubt figure it all out soon enough," he said.

"What-?" Snape's question was cut off with a resounding smack across his face. He blinked away stars, blood suddenly filling his mouth.

"Rule number one," Black said, smirking, "No speaking without prior permission." Snape could feel the blood dribbling down his chin to drip on the stone floor as he glared up at Black, who had moved to stand in front of him. "Because I, personally, don't want to spend my evenings listening to your whiny voice." Lupin suddenly appeared on Snape's left, leaning in to lick the blood still running down his chin. He whimpered, golden eyes closing in pleasure. Before Black could do anything, Lupin claimed Snape's lips in a bruising kiss, tongue plundering the other's mouth for every drop of blood. Little whimpers and grunts passed from his mouth into Snape's, and it was very reluctantly that Lupin allowed himself to be tugged away by Black, still licking his lips.

"Tasty," he declared, leering at Snape in a very unnerving way. Black squeezed his arm tightly in warning.

"Full moon was three days ago, Remus," he said, "No snacking for another month." Lupin nipped at Black's jaw as if in rebuke, but Snape could see the pleasure in his eyes. Black speculatively eyed Snape over the top of Lupin's head; feeling defiant, Snape met the unflinching stare with his own.

"I'm going to get one of my potions," Black declared, pulling out of Lupin's embrace rather abruptly. Lupin looked between Snape and Black, a wicked smirk growing on his face.

Snape remembered, rather vaguely, how good-looking Lupin had been at school; always on the skinny side, and abysmally plain when next to handsome Potter or dashing Black, but somehow still appealing in his own right. Now, with scars across his nose and grey hair at his temples, he looked a little more ragged. Black, too, had suffered from his short stay in Azkaban, and however many years he had spent on the run before the Dark Lord's return.

Lupin was shifting impatiently, glancing at the door Black had left through as he had at the clock earlier in the evening. At school, Lupin had always been calm and collected, completely unaffected by the pranks his friends played or the taunts from Snape and his Housemates. Was this the person the façade had been hiding, he wondered? In changing allegiances, it was blatantly obvious that Lupin had accepted the wolf side of himself, embraced it even, until it was an integral part of himself. The thought chilled Snape to the core.

He was jolted from his thoughts when a pale hand grabbed his crotch, rubbing circles that sent sparks shooting through his body. Snape gasped, head rolling back; if Black found them like this then he would no doubt be the one to suffer, but restrained as he was, he couldn't resist.

"Lupin," he gasped, though whether it was a plea or a warning even he didn't know. Lupin bit him on the shoulder, hard, making him jerk in his chains.

"Rule number one," Lupin muttered, using his left hand to free himself from the confines of his trousers without the right breaking its rhythm on Snape's member. A frustrated grunt made Snape open his eyes, unaware that he had in fact closed them, to see Black yanking Lupin's hand away, a dark look on his face.

"You're just asking for punishment now," he growled. Having witnessed all he had so far, Snape was not surprised that Lupin was not more fearful of what Black was planning as he slammed down the potion vial and stormed back through the door, returning quickly with what looked like a dog lead and collar. Snape almost laughed, except the situation wasn't all that funny; he was still half hard, exposed to Black and Lupin, who were playing out a stereotype he would have thought beyond them.

It all seemed too familiar, too rehearsed for Snape to believe it wasn't a common occurrence. And seeing what he had, he found it all too easy to imagine the many creative ways Lupin tried to wind up Black.

"Put it on," Black ordered. Lupin dropped to his knees as he did so, looking up at Black with feigned impudence. Black grabbed him roughly by the hair again, forcing Lupin into a chair before straddling him. Lupin's hands twitched feebly at his side, knowing what would happen if they moved to touch Black.

For the longest moment they sat perfectly still, trading heated stares, until Black swooped in for a passionate kiss. Their mouths crashed, hungrily trying to devour each other. Black had the lead wrapped tightly around his hand, keeping Lupin firmly in place as his mouth was ravaged. The other raked sharp lines over Lupin's back, making the other man arch all the more into Black. Snape could definitely see tongues battling each other, and loathe though he was to watch, he couldn't drag his eyes away. That ever-detached part of himself thought it was rather like watching Voldemort slowly torture a Muggle, except that Snape now had a hard-on the likes of which he'd never experienced since Hogwarts, and no way at all of relieving himself.

"Suck it," Black commanded, being nothing short of cruel as he wrenched on the lead. He had Lupin on the floor again, himself sat as regally as possible in the sagging sofa, flies on his tight denims open. It looked, to Snape, like Lupin almost choked in his haste to swallow Black's cock down his throat, but even in the abysmal light, he could see the look of divine pleasure on both men's faces. One hand gripping Lupin's hair, the other yanking on the lead to hold the pliant mouth still while he thrust, Black looked every inch the pleasured Sultan. Snape envied him that abandon on his face, and the silken hot tongue laving his member; his own cock twitched in jealousy with every delicious slurp that escaped Lupin's lips.

Deep, guttural grunts rumbled in Black's chest in time with his uncompromising thrusts into Lupin's willing mouth, becoming more and more needy. Black's head thrashed against the back of the sofa, his dark hair fanning out haphazardly. Snape could feel his own breath rasping in time with Black's, but couldn't stop himself. His cheeks were probably just as flushed, his eyes glittering just as brightly as they stared at Lupin's eager face.

"God, Remus," Black moaned, "Ah..." From the solitary corner it seemed Lupin was prolonging the torture, bringing Black to the precarious edge but never quite over into orgasm, and it was driving both Black and Snape mad with heat. Then with a petulant whine, Lupin was jerked viciously back by the lead. Black's erection looked agonising, glistening in the firelight with precome and spit, as he hauled Lupin to the chair by Snape. Apparently, their captive was not entirely forgotten in their need to dominate each other, but Snape was far too intelligent to even think they would touch him.

With a wicked smirk at him, Black sat with his back to Snape and spelled off Lupin's skin-tight leathers, before yanking him onto his lap. Well-placed fingers had Lupin writhing already, head thrown back in pleasure as Black nipped sharply at his exposed neck. "Lapsus," Black whispered, scant inches from the skin. Snape had never used a spell, had preferred his own potions to ease the way, but it was an ingenious use of the Lubrication Charm - one that he might suggest they use on their front door. If, that was, he didn't go mad from desire first. The look on Lupin's face was utterly debauched, and Snape understood that this, too, was part of his torture - to see the release, but never take part in it. Ingeniously cruel, he admitted grudgingly.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck Merlin YES!" Lupin babbled in a non- ending stream as he sunk onto Black's cock, hands gripping automatically at long dark hair. It was almost comical, both with their black tops on, and their buckled combat boots resting heavily on the floor, but at this angle Snape could see Lupin's erection, and suddenly the whole situation was far too hot to be considered remotely funny. His mouth was completely dry as he watched Lupin impale himself on Black. "Ah. Ah. Yes, God, Sirius!" Black's breath hissed through clenched teeth in sync with every piston of his hips. One hand still held the lead; the other wrapped around Lupin's cock, eliciting another strangled expletive.

"Hard-er. Hard- Oh Merlin's balls!" Lupin yelped, his thrusts becoming uneven as he clawed at Black's shoulders. Snape's hips bucked ineffectually into the cold air, much as he might wish they not, and it took all his willpower to keep from keening when Black bit Lupin's throat brutally. Lupin came loudly, hands pressing Black's face into his neck. Even as he came back down off his orgasm, he undulated in Black's lap, uncaring of the come splattered in pearly lines over his rumpled black shirt.

Black was grunting now, a deep shunt of air in his chest that matched Snape's own soundless whimpers. "Circe," Black cursed, and Snape could only imagine the sensation of Lupin grinding around him, clenching in all the right places, hands gripping his face as they gripped Black's now. Heads tilted, they kissed again, open-mouthed, teeth clicking and tongues sliding sinuously against each other. Snape licked his dry lips hungrily, hips still moving.

"Come," Lupin whispered breathlessly, "Come." And Black did, mouth opened but not even a puff of air leaving him as his whole body shook with orgasm. Lupin looked orgasmic just from the feel of Black's seed filling him, and continued to rock back and forth long afterwards.

Slowly Black relaxed again, panting harshly while Lupin murmured nonsensically and stroked his shoulders in a gentle touch that made Snape ache all the more. Their foreheads rested together, shining with sweat, as they calmed themselves. Snape could almost feel the heat pouring off them in waves, and the smell of musk and sex seemed to linger in the air around them.

They stayed as they were for a long time, which couldn't have been all that comfortable, Snape mused, except that he was in a worse position. Achingly hard and with absolutely no chance of getting off, having been upright for the better part of ten hours. Lupin caught his eyes, making sure Snape didn't look away as he licked the shell of Black's ear, making the taller man shudder and pull Lupin closer. Snape got the message clearly enough; Lupin would take him just far enough, but he would never get that kind of release. In his current condition, however, any attention would have been welcome, and the sight of that delicious tongue peeking from between swollen lips nearly undid him there.

Black undid the collar from Lupin's neck and eased him from his lap, before standing and banishing their chair to a desk in one shadowy corner. All this he did without once letting go of his lover. Lupin tucked Black's softened cock away before slinging his own trousers over one arm, wrapping the other equally possessively around Black's waist. They turned as one to examine Snape, who felt utterly humiliated knowing that he couldn't even hide the fact that he was aroused by their exhibition. Black smirked, infuriatingly, and turned Lupin's head in order to kiss him soundly, tongue plundering the treasures there that Snape had barely tasted beforehand.

To Snape, it took them forever to leave the room, Lupin swaying his arse provocatively with every step. Only a warning slap from Black stopped him long enough for the two of them to get through the bedroom door. Once it was closed, and Snape could feel the magic of various wards and charms activate, he let himself slump against the rough wall with an anguished groan. This was his fate, then. For the remainder of his days he would be ravaged by Lupin and tortured by Black, until every secret he harboured in his mind was dragged out for Voldemort's perusal. He was not so arrogant as to think, even for a moment, that he would best them at this game; everyone cracked eventually, and it was perfectly obvious from the lingering stain of despair in his corner that Black and Lupin were very experienced when it came to interrogation.

That didn't mean he would give in without a fight. A little hard won time could give the Order the chance to move Headquarters, to change all the details that Snape had imbedded within him, like passwords and safehouses. It wouldn't be much protection - Merlin knew they were losing already - but there might be enough of a chance for a miracle to happen. Snape was not one to believe in miracles or intervention from the divine, but where the Dark Lord was concerned, anything could happen.

In the meantime, he would grit his teeth and bear the pain for as long as he could.

\---

Snape hated waiting, but not when it came to death. His twisted form lay at the Dark Lord's feet, released temporarily from another agonising curse designed to prolong his pain before Voldemort finally deigned to kill him. Blood tears had stained his cheeks in long lines of crimson, but he could still blurrily see the circle of high-ranking Death Eaters that were present for his execution.

It had taken a shamefully short amount of time for him to reveal everything his captors asked for. Pain he could have handled with ease and maybe a small amount of dignity, particularly when delivered by Sirius Black of all people. But combined with the pleasure Lupin offered, apparently willingly, he was completely undone.

He knew where they were standing, as they had brought him in, and he kept his eyes on them for as long as he could. In some small way, he was hoping they would rescue him and take him back to Dumbledore, even if they returned to Voldemort's service afterward. Of course he knew they wouldn't, but in the last minutes of his life he decided to indulge himself in a few idle fantasies. He hoped he had given the Order enough time to sort out their affairs, once they realised he had been discovered. Even that small delay would have cost precious days, and if the whole resistance collapsed because of his seduction by a supposedly dead werewolf, he would be damned forever.

"This, my most faithful servants, is what happens to traitors," Voldemort intoned gravely, though they all heard the unbridled glee in his voice; "If you so much as suspect a mole in your ranks, report him immediately. Our chief interrogators -" and here he nodded at Black and Lupin "- are experts in delivering the truth." There was some rustling, as the surrounding Death Eaters glanced at the indistinguishable figures they couldn't recognise. Snape didn't even have the energy to call out their names, thus revealing them to everyone in the room; he felt merely a numbing kind of apathy, quite possibly the calm before the last storm of his life.

"Crucio," Voldemort snarled, and Snape's body contorted, every muscle and tendon straining as he screamed his throat hoarse. The pain was excruciating, never-ending, a continuous pulse of agony in every inch of his flesh. His heartbeat thudded unevenly in his ears, bile choked his throat as his voice gave out, and still he tried to scream. For all that he hated waiting, death for Severus Snape was a long time in coming.

Watching over the whole proceeding, Lupin and Black stood shoulder to shoulder with clenched hands hidden by their black robes. Whatever they felt about the torture and death of prisoners, not even Voldemort knew, but they always stayed until everyone else had gone, and disposed of the corpse themselves. Snape was no different, and when his body finally stopped reacting to the Dark Lord's curse, they Disapparated to an incinerator and burned him, making sure to take a cutting of hair to send to Dumbledore.

The following week Lupin walked into his apartment to find a man chained in the corner ...


End file.
